


this side of paradise

by liberate



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alterantive Universe - Modernverse, Alternative Universe - Fantasy, Alternative Universe - Mermaids, Alternative Universe - Yakuza, Alternative Universe - eSport, Fluff and Angst, M/M, McHanzo Week, McHanzo Week 2017, alternative universes, it's also on tumblr, prompt collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-15 15:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberate/pseuds/liberate
Summary: and you care, you care so much, about everything, about second-hand honor, about your clan.until jesse tumbles into your life, head-first.[mchanzo week collection]





	1. when the moon fell in love with the sun

**Author's Note:**

> i decided to give [mchanzo week](http://mchanzo-week.tumblr.com/) a shot, so i'll upload a short thing a day for the next week, if i make it. i had a blast writing this au - i stole it from my own prose story, and i'd actually love to explore it more. it's so my aesthetic. 
> 
> title is taken from _this side of paradise_ by hayley kiyoko, chapter soundtrack was _when the day met the night_ by panic! at the disco.
> 
>  
> 
> **prompt: morning II night**

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nightborn are trouble. You know that best, because after all, your brother is one of them – and Genji is the definition of trouble, of a mess, a chaotic mess of stardust carved into a lanky body, and you look at him and can't believe that you are related to him, that he's your brother, that you share the same blood. And you're not the one who wants to get caught up in the debates, if Dayborn and Nightborn really share blood, which is heresy, which is blasphemy – you leave that to your father's friends on their nice dinner parties, the friends whose wifes have born them Dayborns whom they can show of, like your father does.

 

 

You know better than Genji that he's accepted in your clan only because you are the heir and he is nothing.

 

 

What you know better is: You're supposed to stay away from them, with their moonlit eyes and celestial hair, but sometimes you can't avert your gaze, when Genji's green hair turns darker at dawn, until each laugh of him rattles the constellations across his skin, smeared within the strands of his hair. There's a certain kind of fascination that draws you towards them, towards the Nightborn, but you keep your distance, because there's no way you can afford even being seen with one.

 

 

And you care, you care so much, about everything, about second-hand honor, about your clan.

 

 

Until Jesse tumbles into your life, head-first, and it's the middle of the night, because sometimes you sneak out of the estate, simply to feel the world a little more than usually, a little less filtered, a little more raw, and because it helps you think, realize, that Nightborn sleep and eat and breathe like normal people, even if they gape at you when you cross them, with your only-dark hair and pale skin, whispering behind your back, but you don't mind, because they won't recognize you – your glamour is too good for this, even for a Dayborn, and you enjoy being a bit of a show-off sometimes.

 

 

Except it takes Jesse McCree approximately thirty seconds to see through you, right after he rushed around a street corner, right into your arms, literally swept you off your feet with half an excuse dying on both your lips, him tipping his hat back.

“You're the last person I expected out here”, he smirks, offering you a hand to get up. You ignore it, a hint of panic curling up in your chest, because you have dealt with worse than this. “What do you mean?”, you cross your arms, cold, collected.

“Aw, don't bluff”, if he'd whistle you wouldn't be surprised at all, but you'd probably hit him in the face, so you're glad he doesn't, “of course I know who you are. I've been admiring you from a distance forever, darlin'.”

 

 

You stare at him. He stares back, mouth still curled into a smile. “Creep.”

He pretends to be hurt, but he's a horrible actor, so he earns nothing except you rolling your eyes at him. You're surprised how easy it is, and you're surprised by how hard it is not to stare at him, with his weird cowboy-outfit, his freckles are constellations across his skin and where his hat doesn't cover his hair, it's like an aurora, pushed into human form. A part of you envies him, for the otherworldly beauty the Nightborn share, another part of you really wonders if his lips taste like stars. Even if you don't know how stars taste.

 

 

“Whatcha looking at?”, he leans against the brick wall next to them, with a smile that's knowing enough for you to not answer the question. “It's okay, your kind tends to stare at us.” “It's not like Nightborn don't do that”, there's a slight edge in your voice, because you don't want to talk about classes and politics and you'd rather kiss him, but that's not how the world works.

“We have to think about what we can't have sometimes”, he shrugs, like he doesn't really mind. “Wouldn't want it any other way. Upper class life is bullshit anyway.” “Agreed”, you don't think, but he seems to like your reply.

 

 

“Guess you don't want anyone to know you're strolling around here?”

“I would appreciate it very much, yes.”

“Does that mean I can blackmail you now?”, he winks at you, and you shot him an annoyed look back. “I have my ways to ensure that won't happen.” “Was that a treat, darlin'? Because people wanting to kill me _really_ turns me on.”

A small laugh escapes you, and he winks at you again. “Didn't knew you could smile, let alone laugh.”

This time, it's your turn to smirk. “I can do a lot of things better than most people expect.”

“I'm listening”, he leans forward a bit, until he's inches away from you. “And also really interested.”

 

 

 _It's nothing_ , you think, while you move to cross the missing distance between you, _it's nothing_ , you think, while his hands find your face, the metal of his left hand feels slightly cold, but not uncomfortable across your skin, _it's nothing_ , while your lips meet his.

 

 

Kissing him feels like a supernova exploding between the two of you, and when you think _it's nothing_ , you're lying.

 

 

 

 


	2. on the edge of infinity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _it's all fun and games until you compete for a world championship._
> 
>  
> 
> the esport au no one asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **prompt: alternative universe**
> 
> honestly, this is written for an esport au that i meant to write a full story about it, because i crave this very much. the teams are kind of a mess and so is the backstory. 
> 
> title is taken from _ignite_ by zedd, because of course i have to go with a league of legends championship song if i write an au about esport. i'm a nerd.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Defeat**.

 

 

 

The letters are in front of you, right there, glittering in gold, framed by red lights, and yet you can't seem the grasp them – even if you want nothing more than to rip them out of the screen, trade for the gold-blue feeling of victory, but there's nothing you can do, because the game is over and you _lost_. All you feel is the numbness creeping up your ribcage, your eyes still fixed on the screen, your hand still clutching the mouse, because you don't want to look any other way, don't want to see Genji on your left, cupping his face in his hands, shoulders silently shaking and you're supposed to reach out to him, but you can't seem to move your hands.

 

 

You're frozen, and yet weirdly alive, chairs shuffling behind you when the winning team approaches, and somehow you manage, getting up, shaking hands, offering congratulations – D.Va clutches your hand a second longer than the others, and there's understanding in your eyes, understand you weren't expecting. Your smile is weak. “Congratulations on another title”, she nods, and her smile is the smile of someone who has forgotten the taste of defeat because her team hasn't tasted it in a long time.

 

 

The rest of the ceremony is a blur, D.Va lifting up the Summoner's Cup, bigger than her upper body, almost, _MEKA_ posing for pictures, all smiles and glory, while there is nothing left for your team. Nothing except second-hand glory and the bitter taste of having failed their nation. When you touch the silver medal around your neck, your fingers feel stiff – Tracer is blinking fast, even faster than usually, and there are tears swelling up in her eyes, even if she tries to hide it. Zenyatta is trying to comfort her, while you don't even manage to comfort your own brother, while you're desperately trying not to look at Jesse, who looks grim and determined and it makes you feel even more hollow. This isn't about your bet with him anymore, this is about so much more.

 

 

When the lights in the arena die down, it hits all of you, that this is it – the end of the line, maybe. Everything you worked for over the past year has gone up in smoke, and you have nothing to bring home.

 

 

“I think I need a drink”, Genji sounds hollow, strands of green hair falling into his face, there are dark circles under his eyes that the make-up can't hide anymore. Not even Zenyatta disagrees, not today. “Who talks to Jack?”, asks someone, before you realize that the words came out of your own mouth. Your voice sounds unfamiliar in your own ears, now, without shotcalling, without calling missing, talking about your lane, because it's over, isn't it?

 

 

“All of us should”, Jesse says, not a hint of emotion in his voice. “But not right now.”

Zenyatta sighs. “I'll talk to him now, just”, he gestures something, “keep it together. Now is not the time to fall apart.”

Genji looks like he wants to say something, anything, something rude, the same things you are thinking, but not saying, even if they are thorns in your throat, but instead all of you watch Zenyatta leave, the silver logo on the black jersey, and you feel the need to rip if off your body, to get away as far as possible. “I should've done what father wanted”, you think and say at the same time, and Genji laughs, bitter, just as bitter as you feel. “Maybe you should've.”

 

 

Jesse looks at you with something like disappointment in his eyes.

You turn away from his gaze.

 

 

He still finds you, later, wh en you left for the bathroom and ended up staring at the image in the mirrow instead, your hair is messed up from the headset and you don't bother to fix it, the jersey clings to you like a second skin, a skin you'd love to shed. You hear him before he finds you, the soft noise of the door clicking shut behind him, and he leans against it with a sigh.

“Jesse.” You look at him, for the first time since the loss, and a part of you is alarmed by how tired he really looks, behind his eyes and the freckled smile he's put on for everyone else. “You shouldn't be the one holding the team together.”

 

 

It's not a question, it's a statement, one you meant to make ages ago, because it's always the same – everyone falls apart, except Jesse, except the stupid player with the sad history, the only one who keeps talking when they are loosing, who is always there, never looses faith, who never surrenders, even if they play in private. It's just how he is, and you admire him to a degree you'd talk about. He's the player you wanted to become when you started, but everything messed you up, the Blackwatch thing, now Overwatch esports, and it's all a mess. You did all of this for the one series, the one series you just lost.

 

 

“Someone has to hold the team together. They are too young, Hanzo.”

“Maybe we are too old.” “Never”, Jesse says, like he's the seventeen year-old guy who just started, who just lost or won his first game on a big stage, not like he's the man who just lost a World Championship. Maybe you are too old, but Jesse is right – he never will be, because when you struggles, he plays, and plays and improves and he loves the game so much more than you do.

“I know what you are thinking”, he says, and you crook your head in reply. “You're not too old, Hanzo. Claim as much as you want – I know you do”, he adds at the sight of your expression, “you don't hate this game. You love it. Maybe in another way than I do, but you do.” You feel tired, incredibely tired. “Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Love doesn't win you games.”

 

 

“At some point, it does. Love means remembering why you started.”

You lean against the tiled wall. “The reason why I started wasn't even a good reason.”

“But you started”, Jesse shifts closer, only a bit, resting his hand on your shoulder. You let him. “And I'm glad you did.”

He leans in to press a kiss against your lips, and you rest your head on his shoulder, because you are tired and maybe too old and burned out, but you're willing to try. “We'll try again”, Jesse whispers.

 

 

“I won't let Overwatch disband, even if it's the last thing I do.”

 

 

Somehow, you believe him.

 

 


	3. always fading, always fading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _the universe where your blood is on my hands._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> undercover yakuza au.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **prompt: undercover**
> 
>  
> 
> this challenge brings out the worst in my writing style. i have nothing more to say, because i'm a very worn-out person at this point. i also like writing angst.
> 
> title is from _this sinking ship_ by causes, because it's angsty and i like it. on a sidenote, this is also a canon divergence in which hanzo joins overwatch after genji's 'death'.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It ends like this: you, him, a gun, and a tragic ending.

 

 

Of course it wasn't meant that way, of course the mission failed, but there is so much at stake and so little time, and you thought maybe at this point you were used to killing your loved ones. It's a lie, because nobody ever gets used to that.

 

 

“It's a dangerous job”, Commander Morrison warns you, “probably the most dangerous we've given out in years.” He furrows his brow in thought or maybe regret, because no matter how hard he pretends not to care, everyone knows that he does. Everyone knows that he maybe cares a little too much about Overwatch, but you are not sure if you are included in that term, because most days, it doesn't feel like it, but you know how much he cares about McCree, because he looks at him like he's his son, in a good way, not in the way your father used to look at you. It makes the way the story pans out all the more hurtful.

 

 

“Don't worry, we can handle this”, McCree is beaming with confidence, fingers interlocked in his belt, caressing the handle of his gun. You settle on a plain nod to support his words. Morrison hesitates a moment before he sighs and hands you the file of the mission. You clutch it without looking into it, because you have memorized the details of the mission ever since someone brought it up first. You are many things, but dumb is not one of them, because it's a mission concerning the Yakuza, and you are both the best and the only expert on that topic from your team. The only question was who would accompany you.

 

 

And here you are, the ex-yakuza-member and the cowboy, except both of you pretend to be yakuza-members. You're positively surprised by how well McCree is doing, ditching his normal attitude for something cold and undefinable, even if you're not sure if you like it, the way his eyes get cold and dark, the way he makes his hand gestures fits the one of the others while deciding about life and death. Sometimes you forget – that the cheerful, flirting cowboy has been a bounty hunter for most of his life, merciless in his own way, but it's hard to remember when he makes bad puns and obnoxious jokes.

 

 

If you weren't one of the most dangerous assassins in the world, you would likely be scared of him, but this way – in a way, you appreciate it, even if you catch yourself missing his flirting, but that's nothing you would ever admit. Especially not to him.

 

 

The day the story turns head-first into a tragedy, they approach you at dawn. You're spending a minute in your room, returned from a mission only an hour ago, your hair is still wet from the shower, your clothing loose, absently flipping through reports stacked on your desk. The knocking on your door breaks in on your thoughts, or maybe just in on your empty mind, wondering how long it will take you to finish this mission, because this place feels like home, and not in a good way. You've been here for almost sixty days now, working your way up, with forged papers and identities, good enough that even the Yakuza can't see through it, but even if they accept you, trust is something else. Nobody trusts anyone in this line for work, and you know that, but respect can be earned.

 

 

“Shizuoka-san”, the man doesn't extend his hand, only enters the room and closes the door behind him. You get up to greet him, calm, collected movements, take a little step to the side so that the man can see the gun on his desk, right in reach. The smile the man offers him at the sight of the gun is thin and cruel. “We talked earlier about entrusting you with more informations about our organisation.” Entrusting is a lie, and both of you know it. It's not a favor, it's a give-and-take situation, but you don't know what you have to give them get – everything would be fine, because this mission might determine the future of Overwatch, and you know how important this is.

 

 

“The problem is”, the man says while relishing every word, “we might have an infiltrator among our lines.”

You don't flinch, your heart only stops for a second, continuing the slow, steady rhythm. You've been trained for this, but if they found you out, you're in trouble - killing your way out wouldn't benefit Overwatch at all, even if you'd probably make it. Instead you're stuck with your back against the wall and nowhere to go. You open your mouth. “Who?” A decisive, cold question. _Who is it – find him, and I'll get rid of him for you_. The man seems to both understand and approve. He nods, slowly. His grin doesn't reach his eyes.

 

 

“The new agent who joined with you.”

 

 

This time, you flinch. He notices, of course, and his smile widens. “You were fond of him, we all know.” You don't try to deny it. “But in our line of work, fondness is dangerous, Shizuoka-san.” He relocates himself, a little closer to you, lowers his voice. “And if you were really serious about your, you know, ambitions, then this would be the opportunity to prove it.”

With a wink he opens the door again. “But I never told you this, of course.” His eyes say something entirely different – they tell a story of a life hardly worth living and the bitter cold of a night on the most icy place on earth. You can still feel the cold after he has left the room, creeping into your bones, and you find yourself shaking when you reach for the gun.

 

 

It ends like this: You have to decide, and you try to decide – try to think of what McCree would've wanted, consider warning him, but it's too dangerous, everything is, and it feels like only seconds pass and here you are, with a gun pointed at his head, an apology in your eyes and the pleading voice inside your head that will never stop whispering into your ears when you kill him, and you don't know what duty means anymore, but you need it, and you need him and -

 

 

There is something like calm shock in McCree's eyes, like he understands, and you pray he does, and you wonder if he thinks about what could've been if you would've kissed him that day, that winter night, but that only makes it all the more harder and maybe you love him after all, maybe you desperately love him and -

 

 

you pull the trigger.

 


	4. tearing through the pages and the ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _you were red, and you liked me because i was blue - you touched me and suddenly i was a lilac sky and you decided purple just wasn't for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **prompt: red I blue**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> this is getting worse each time. a day late, because i wasn't sure what do to with the prompt, and i'm skipping today's actual prompt because i had no ideas for it, so only six chapters, sadly. 
> 
> thanks to my version of the dumb cowboy for inspiring me to write this prompt about _colors_ from halsey. it's heavily inspired by the song, obviously. i love halsey so much. _disclaimer:_ there's mcgenji in here. also sad boyfriends and people being kinda dicks. also kind of au-ish because all of things i write make no sense.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A part of you really thinks Jesse might be the love of your life. It's the part of you that's still thirteen, still clinging to the ripped books that you hid under your pillow, because you didn't wanted anyone – especially Genji – to know that you read fairytales and hero stories, knights in shining armor, because it seemed dumb to you, dumb and childish. You figure, not many years later, that the stories are lies and castles in the sky, being torn apart by dragons that don't exist, far too distant for you to reach.

 

 

You are an assassin, and assassins don't get saved by knights, they kill the princess the knight is trying to rescue.

 

 

But your second chance for a fairytale has brown eyes and sunburnt, freckled skin and enough annoying habits to be a trainwreck. Everything else does turn into a trainwreck pretty fast, but that's what you try to hold onto – you have Jesse, even if it's secret, it's the best secret you ever had, and you've had lots of them, because you were lying when you told your father that you don't know where Genji is, while knowing perfectly well he's downtown, drinking, flirting.

 

 

Maybe you lie because you don't want to get dragged into his mess.

Maybe with Jesse you lie because you don't want to be the mess.

 

 

 

 

“ _If you ask nicely, I could be your knight in a shining armor”, he smirks, cigarette between his lips that was yours moments ago, but now he claimed it. You sigh, light yourself another, deliberately ignoring how much your father would hate it, deliberately ignoring how the smoke clings to your clothes hours later, and you don't really like that – it's just a necessary evil, or maybe not an evil at all._

 

 

_Just a side effect of the love._

 

 

“ _Nobody wants you as their knight, no offense.”_

“ _Offense taken”, but the laugh in his voice gives him away. “You'd love to have me fight a duel to protect your honor, don't deny it.”_

_There's a bitter taste in your mouth, because he doesn't know the last thing about honor, but that's not a thought you're supposed to have. “I can protect my own honor just well, thank you, I spend my life protecting mine and the honor of my troublesome brother.”_

_He exhales smoke into the air. The sky is dawn-red, almost orange. It's his favorite color, red. You can't offer him that._

 

 

“ _Genji is just fine.”_

 

 

_That's how it starts, the train wreck. With a simple 'Genji is just fine'._

 

 

 

 

 

Halfway through the story you realize that you aren't the protagonist. In fact, you used to believe you were a main character next to Jesse – his main love interest, like the stories claim. Except you wake up one morning to find out he's rewritten the narrative into something different, and you are not supposed to play any part in that. He's too nice to tell you that. You find out on your own.

 

 

 

 

_He asks about Genji more often – to a point where you realize that it's often, because you think about Genji so often that you hardly realized how often his name falls from Jesse's lips. You ignore it, because you know Genji and him get along well – they fit together like weirdly shaped puzzlepieces, glued together by bad flirting and the same smirks._

 

 

_Maybe you are an idiot for not noticing earlier, but it's not even a good time for you, pushing yourself into work and training, meeting your father's friends night after night and later you figure it's given them a lot of nights to meet. You don't even feel sad about the realization, but there's a bitterness like you swallowed a whole lemon followed by the strongest cup of coffee you can find, and no matter how many times you brush your teeth, the taste clings._

 

 

_The whole thing falls apart when it's not your name he moans while fucking you._

 

 

 

 

It's a clean break.

 

 

Except it's not, because the person you used to love is fucking your brother now, and no matter how hard they try to stay away from you, how they only meet when you aren't aware of it, how hard McCree tries to avoid you – because calling him _Jesse_ now feels like an privilege you don't have – you know they are there, exchanging kisses and sweet words, and you absentely wonder if he tells him the same things he told you, while listening to your father's reports.

 

 

Leaving him is like an open wound that seems to heal, but than you run into him accidentally, lighting a cigarette on the balcony, and you flinch away like he's a forest fire, and when you look at the wound again, it has reopened.

 

 

 

 

 

“ _It's just – you changed, okay”, he lits another cigarette, nervously, hopelessly._

_Your voice is dry. “You changed me. You made me better, and now I'm not good enough for you anymore?”_

_His sigh is frustrated and he shrugs. “No, Hanzo, you're great, it's just -”_

“ _Leave it be.” There's an end in your voice, but no beginning. “If it's okay to change your favorite color, it's okay to change your favorite person too.” Bitterness is dripping from your voice, and the cigarette he flips in the garden ignites it like kerosene._

 

 

 

 

You never tell him that if he is a forest fire, you are the rain after the dark.

 

 


	5. planet earth turns slowly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **prompt: first date**
> 
> i'm at a point of no return where i just don't give fucks anymore. this could've been gorgeous, but now it's just rushed but i hate fluff sometimes. i want intense angst, not cliché fluff, but all the prompts left were so fluffy...
> 
> song of the chapter is obviously _fireflies_ from owl city, because it was literally the only thing i could think off. let a man play trash videogames instead of making him write fluff.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“...I can't believe he did that”, Jesse drops his arms in devastation to support his statement, but your low chuckle makes him drop the act within seconds. Your smile is a faint trace of happiness, his is a statement, white teeth behind his grin and every muscle in his face moves when he smiles, changes, re-arranges himself as a consequence of his happiness.

 

 

“What happened afterwards?”, you fold your napkin neatly, only to put it back into the picnic basket.

He sighs, shifts his weight a little. “Jack didn't talk to him for like, three days, until Ana decided to interfere and solve this mess by openly lecturing both of them in the same room.” You don't know any of these people he's talking about, but you still listen anyways, head slightly tilted, simply because he beams when he talks about them, and something about that draws you to him. So you let him talk, have been for hours now, because he doesn't seem to run out of words – it reminds you of Genji, except Jesse knows when to pause to let him ask things, somehow knows what you are interest in.

 

 

“You are a very considerate man”, you told him, earlier, and it seemed to make him uncomfortable, fidgeting with the seam of his shirt, half a smile on his face. “Ain't no big deal”, you realize that there's the faintest hint of an accent in his voice when he's uncomfortable, and you stare at this information for a couple of seconds before tucking it away in the back of your head. You learned a lot things about him in just a day – and you never thought it worked like this, first dates, you always figured that people pretend for a first impression, only for both to find out later that maybe things are way more complicated.

 

 

Jesse doesn't bother with pretending. Jesse just walks into the room and lets all his walls come down.

 

 

“It's already getting dark”, Jesse grins, a little, “I didn't even noticed this much time passed.”

The _me neither_ is on the tip of your tongue, but it would be a lie, because you can't simply loose track of time, not like other people do, and you don't want to lie to Jesse, not today. This feels better than a lot of different things, and for once you are glad about going along with Genji's recommendation, his wild hook-up plans resulting into a weird form of blind date, resulting in this. Now the sun is sinking slowly and the wind is freshening. You pull your jacket a little closer while getting up, and his painful groans that accompany him getting up makes you chuckle a little.

 

 

“You are not that old, Jesse.”

“I feel very old on the inside”, he complains, stretching his arms and legs.

“Too many videogames, not enough movement”, you almost wink, but resist the urge. He groans. “You sound like my mother would sound. That's not turning me on, ya'know.” You shrug and you are pretty sure that the fact that you are not sorry at all is visible on your face. “You know my brother, I had to be the responsible one in our lives.”

“Sounds exhausting and not much fun”, Jesse starts folding the picnic blanket and you collect the things still lying around. “It's my life”, that sounds more bitter than in intended, and you know it, but shrug it off anyways. He pauses for a second, blanket thrown over his arms, the red color matching his scarf. “Do you have any plans for the rest of the evening?”

 

 

You stare at him for a moment, blinking slowly. “Are you trying to invite me home on the first date?”

Jesse laughs. “I have my morals, you know.” He scratches his head. “There's a nice spot some minutes from here, but it's nicer after dawn, so, join me if you'd like?” “Do you know how that sounds?”

 

 

His grin says that he is totally aware of it, but does not intend to change a thing.

You follow him anyway.

 

 

 

“This is stunning”, the word does not really express what you feel, but the smile sticks to your face, has been ever since Jesse took your hand on the way here. The sky has turned deep-blue, your favourite time of the day, the air is fresh and yet tastes of summer, and there are hundred of fireflies around you, lighting up the world, the brushes, the trees, the city beneath you, almost small from here.

 

 

“Not many people come here”, he still holds your hand, fireflies swarming around his other, extended hand, and they reflect in his brown eyes. The sight stuns you more than the fireflies themselves, because the light makes his features softer and him look younger, and his smile makes your heart stutter. “The earth turns a little slower when you're up here, at least that's what it feels like. I come here when I can't sleep. Or when I get sad.” He doesn't look at you, and you're glad about it, because you don't want to look away.

 

 

“Is this a little too overeager for a first date?”

“No”, you mumble, fireflies dancing across your skin, “it's perfect, Jesse.”

 


	6. oceans between me and you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _the four times you swim with him and the one time you drag him down._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **prompt: the sea**
> 
> this is very short but i actually had a lot of fun writing this - it's one of my favorite styles. anyways, yeah, two days late and i only did six prompts, but i finished, can you believe this. thanks to everyone who read this and enjoyed it and especially to the people who left comments, you made my days. thanks for enjoying this mess.
> 
> chapters song is _oceans_ by seafret, because it's very sad and i love it as a mchanzo song.

 

 

 

**i**.

 

 

 

“I didn't even notice you.”

 

 

He's floating, the moon is up high, throwing silver light onto the waves, mirroring the beauty of the night sky. The sea is calm and dark and you feel it clinging to you like a second skin, moving when you move, resting when you rest.

 

 

You don't like intruders, but this time, it's different, because he is so calm the sea hardly feels him, traces of freckles on his upper body, his left arm is colder and stiller than the rest of his body, metal coated silver in the moonlight and you want to feel it, want to run your fingers across his spine and find out what he's made of.

 

 

“Most people don't, but most people don't come here either.”

 

 

He blinks up at the sky.

 

 

“Because of the curse?”

 

 

You follow his gaze.

 

 

“Or maybe because the sea is so dark here.”

 

 

 

 

**ii**.

 

 

He comes at dawn and you watch from a distance while he approaches the water, the cloth of his pants clinging to his skin, how he closes his eyes while he embraces the cold touch of the water. It almost feels like you're witnessing something you shouldn't witness, but maybe you are the water here and this is the only touch someone will ever give you.

 

 

“Are you always here?”, he jokes, calmly, and the orange sunset makes his features soft.

 

 

“More often than you can imagine”, you reply, and it's half a lie and half of the truth.

 

 

 

**iii**.

 

 

The sun is up high in the sky and the sea is just as warm as the air surrounding it, the heat is shimmering above the sand, but he doesn't seem to mind it. Maybe he's from a place where the sun is always up high in the sky, you wonder, but you will never find out. You don't even know his name, but that's just how your life is.

 

 

It's the middle of the day and you can't approach him.

 

 

Maybe that's your real curse.

 

 

 

**iv**.

 

 

_Someone once translated 'i love you' to 'the moon is beautiful tonight' in Japanese. Did you know that?_

 

 

“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?”

 

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

 

You're both looking each other instead, eyes meeting, gazes fixed.

 

 

“Hey, sea boy, can I kiss you?”

 

 

“I'd appreciate it.”

 

 

Instead of drowning you, his lips teach you how to breathe again.

 

 

 

**v.**

 

“I have to leave, sea boy.”

 

 

Waves are crashing against the surface and there's a storm approaching, you can feel it in your blood or maybe the storm is your blood, crashing all around you until the waves are too loud to hear your own voice. And yet, he stays. Even if it's not forever.

 

 

Your hands are around his wrists and you beg him to stay, pretending he hasn't noticed what you're trying to hide from him. You don't want to be his sea boy, you want to be his forever, and yet you struggle -

 

 

There are bubbles pouring out of his mouth and yet you hear him, even if it makes no sense.

 

 

“Your scales are so pretty, sea boy.”

 

 

Maybe your curse is that you can't cry and you drag him down and let him go and watch him leave.

 


End file.
